


The Realms of Eccentricity

by There_Was_A_Star_Danced



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Actors, Broadway AU, F/M, Jareth and Linda are friends, Jareth is a Genius(TM), Linda Ships It, Linda is an okay person, Sarah is his muse, Slight Possessive Jareth, just not a wonderful Mom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-03-08 22:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18904279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/There_Was_A_Star_Danced/pseuds/There_Was_A_Star_Danced
Summary: "Five years of fantastic success on Broadway secured his position as a rich man, and a genius if he had not already been well established as one, but Jareth Kinnaird was beginning to experience the well-known phenomenon of young geniuses--that of wearing out. At twenty-five, he felt he had lived a century, rather than a quarter of one. Time stretched before him like infinite taffy candy. His creativity faltered. It stutter-stepped. And in his twenty-sixth year, the unthinkable happened: he produced a flop."At 25, he was Broadway personified. At 26, he had his first flop. At 27, his good friend Linda Williams pulled him out of his depression and insisted she come with him on her summer vacation to visit her daughter. Then Jareth meets a girl ten years his junior performing his flop in the park. In a moment, Sarah Williams becomes his muse and he is determined to make her a star at all costs. But as Sarah comes into closer contact with show business, she begins to wonder if this is the life she truly wants.(Basically, movie plotline is fic plotline, but Labyrinth is also Jareth's play in-universe. Jareth becomes slightly possessive but no more than canon. He learns true love. Happy ending.)





	1. In Which The Author Dumps Backstory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prologue. In Which The Author Dumps Essential Backstory To The Fury And Disgust Of Her Audience (And Swears That This Will Be The Only Use Of Omniscient POV In The Story As Far As Her Current Knowledge And Writing For This Fic Have Progressed Which Is Not Far)

 

**"I find only freedom in the realms of eccentricity" - David Bowie**

 

If you were to ask anyone about Jareth Kinnaird, the first word to spring to their lips would undoubtedly be "Genius." 

An unparalleled prodigy, Jareth began to compose music at the age of five, finding by accident and experimentation the musical truths other musicians had sought for centuries. By ten years old, he had forgotten more about music than most would ever learn. Not only did the boy Jareth know music, but he had a natural rhythm and cadence to him, which expressed itself in dancing and verse as soon as he could stand or hold a pen. 

At thirteen, an unprecedented age, his voice changed and revealed an excellent baritone instead of his previous squeaky tenor. His parents, at this point panting with the effort it took to keep up with their son, let alone pay for his education and additional classes, willingly sold him off to the highest bidder. Not literally, of course, but they advertised him now, and made him a commodity. They gave up attempting to give him a normal life and now allowed him to have an abnormal one. Within two months of his first public appearance, Jareth had scholarships to every major music school in the world, and his parents became so rarely seen that it was as if they were never there. Having sold their son to the temple of art, they proceeded to stay out of his way and allow himself to consecrate his life to it under the tutelage of mentors and teachers and peers of all sorts. 

At fifteen, Jareth discovered another skill to add to his repertoire, the skill of acting, and instantly his ordained pathway in life became clear. He was to go on Broadway. Thrilled with the prospect of a new challenge, as well as the allure of show business, Jareth threw himself into learning all the elements of Broadway musicals with almost the child-like passion he had originally shown in music, and in seemingly no time at all he had mastered the arts of acting, directing, choreography, casting, and even producing. By his 21st year, Jareth Kinnaird was no longer  _on_ Broadway, he  _was_ Broadway. 

"Impossible," I hear you scoff. "No human, however genius, could do so much in so little a time," you say. Well, so did many others say.

Indeed, in one sense, you are very right. The effect of genius in so many areas of so young a man had had an odd effect on young Jareth. His attitude, instead of a comely humility and a quiet "gifts that God gives", had become something ... different. Being so far removed from the average human, he began to look on humans somewhat in the way that the fae people of legends were said to look on them. Humanity, as a whole, had become a kind of game to the young genius, and each person he met was another piece of that game. In this, he could become quite cruel when angered. Not the distant, impersonal type of cruelty, either, but a slow, deliberate, and almost intimate type of cruelty. Words that slipped out around him could become the basis of his deeply personal acts of revenge if you did not take care of what you said. 

Even his wild, almost beautiful good looks were entirely fae, and he encouraged that perception. His teeth, due somewhat to a genetic quirk, were long and thin, and he smiled often and wide, showing them plainly. His hair was somewhat thin, and a very fair blonde, but instead of taming it, he allowed it to grow long and to float freely around him. Even his eyes, one eye dilated from an accident in childhood, gave him a very wild air that he did nothing to discourage. His arrogance and eccentricities became as well known as his genius. 

And after five years of being at the pinnacle of achievement, Jareth most certainly felt the age of the fae. Five years of fantastic success on Broadway secured his position as a rich man, and a genius if he had not already been well established as one, but Jareth Kinnaird was beginning to experience the well-known phenomenon of young geniuses--that of wearing out. At twenty-five, he felt he had lived a century, rather than a quarter of one. Time stretched before him like infinite taffy candy. His creativity faltered. It stutter-stepped. And in his twenty-sixth year, the unthinkable happened: he produced a flop.

Oh, it was  _critically_ well acclaimed. But as far as the adoring public went, well... Worse than responding badly, the public didn't respond at all. For once, a Jareth Kinnaird production was just... ignored. Even Jareth's most die-hard fans seemed perfectly willing to forget the existence of poor little "The Maze." It was a beautiful piece, too, full of love and lessons and loss. A beautiful princess rescues her child from the clutches of the Goblin King while at the same time eluding his romantic overtures and returning unstained and triumphant to her husband, the prince, while the Goblin King sobs for his loss, broken-hearted. And yet, it flopped. 

Jareth was crushed. After almost a year of feeling that he was reaching the end of his creative rope, this single play, which caused barely a ripple in the pool of popular opinion, could not have sounded _more_ like a resounding belly-flop. In one swoop, it confirmed all of Jareth's burgeoning ideas about himself, including but not limited to: that he was a washed-up has-been whos only sound course of action was to retire from the public eye immediately and gracelessly in order to live the rest of his life as a sheltered and somber recluse. 

In the space of a week from "The Maze" leaving Broadway, Jareth had done away with make-up, combed and cut his hair and had even, horror of horrors, had gone so far as to buy himself a few pairs of jeans and a handful of t-shirts. 

His small knot of true friends thanked whatever power they believed in that Jareth's vanity was not of the type to brood on the apparent picturesqueness of suicide. Too many tragedies had occurred similarly from people who had 'never seemed the type' and who 'would never really do it' before. One of the friends who thanked providence so earnestly for Jareth's essential love of life was Linda Williams.

Linda had played the part of Jareth's Princess in "The Maze". A mistake, she could see now. Though by no means a has-been herself, she had been on the wrong side of thirty-five to play well against Jareth's twenty-six. Truly, she blamed herself for at least a portion of it's less than fabulous reception. But she hadn't been able to help herself when Jareth had asked her if she was going to audition. After all, from the moment he first placed the script into her hands with an inquiry as to how she liked it she had thought of the play as her baby. Almost literally. It reminded her so much of her daughter, after all, and all of her comments on the Princess were made with thoughts of Sarah. Jareth had liked them and edited accordingly, but then had asked her to play the role, and she accepted. 

Yes, Linda mused, that was where it had gone wrong. She stood over her suitcase, preparing to make her yearly visit to a town she no longer called home to see a husband she could no longer call hers and a daughter that someone else was trying to mother. The girl even had a little brother now. But she was still Linda's baby. Even if Linda had no idea how to be a good mother. And it was that idea, that for a moment she could give her daughter life again, this time on the stage, that had pulled her to accept a role she had already trimmed to fit a younger girl. To fit her daughter. Linda dropped the script into her suitcase to give to Sarah, shaking her head. It seemed that for a while, instead of living through her daughter, she had wanted her daughter to live through her. And that was where it had gone wrong. 

Well, mostly.

In truth, as Jareth himself was realizing as he read through the pages, there was something else wrong. Something he could not quite put his finger on. There was something... wrong. Someone missing. Or someone too much. Or perhaps someone... not who they should be? 

Jareth groaned, tossing away the script to the far end of the room and watching it rain down like the drops from the storm clouds outside. He was never, he swore, never going to attempt another Broadway Musical again. "Not till a hot January," he muttered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings!  
> I hope you have enjoyed this sojourn into my AU of the Labyrinth so far. I know that a multi-chaptered fic is ambitious for my first attempt at publishing, but I hope you enjoy the idea of Jareth as a "washed up" genius and Sarah as his muse as much as I do. Like I said in the description, the plotline of the fic will loosely follow the movie.  
> As always, please leave a contribution in the little box!  
> Addio!  
> ~ Beatrice Bellerose, a.k.a. There_Was_A_Star_Danced


	2. Haven't Met You Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter One. In Which Linda brooks no refusal, Jareth finds his muse, and Sarah is introduced.

 

  **I might have to wait, I'll never give up,**  
**I guess it's half timing and the other half's luck**  
**Wherever you are, Whenever it's right**  
**You'll come out of nowhere and into my life**  
**And I know that we can be so amazing**  
**And baby your love is gonna change me**  
**And now I can see every possibility**

**And somehow I know that it'll all turn out**  
**And you'll make me work so we can work to work it out**  
**And I promise you, kid, I'll give so much more than I get**  
**I just haven't met you yet**

**Michael Bublé ~ Haven't Met You Yet**

 

* * *

"Linda."

The voice that spoke was peeved.

It came from the thin lips of a tall man in jeans and a button-down black shirt.

In fact, it came from Jareth. 

"Linda, Gorgeous, What Am I D _oing._ H _ere._ " He spoke again. 

Linda Williams glanced up from her train ticket. She almost smiled at the annoyance on Jareth's face but stopped herself in time. 

"You're boarding a train to New Hampshire, where we will then drive thirty minutes to my summer vacation town. _I_ am going to be visiting my daughter and ex-husband.  _Y_ _ou_ are going to be getting a change of atmosphere." She informed him, checking his pocket for his ticket.

"I was afraid of that," he muttered. 

Silence reigned for a moment. Or at least, as much silence as could be had in a modern train station, with a song faintly playing and the sounds of other prospective passengers having similar conversations.

Jareth was bored. He had been bored for at least the last eleven months, but it felt as if it could have been eleven years. He had been bored since "The Maze" had flopped and the novelty of being a recluse had worn thin. In his boredom, he had begun to pester the few friends he cared to contact, meddling in their lives and getting up games for them inside his head. When he started to put his mind games into practice, Linda had intervened. 

Between coaxing and demanding, the forceful woman had finally swayed the mercurial monarch of Broadway. And now he was going to what was practically a  _hamlet,_ for heaven's sake, in order to be _even more_ bored out of his skull. But at least he would be far enough away from anyone he cared about to cause any real damage. The only person around to cause any damage to would be Linda, and she would be spending most of her time with her daughter and ex-husband's family. 

"And before you think of spending all of your time alone in your room, I _will_ have the front desk call me whenever you come back to the hotel so I can nag you into going out about town again," Linda spoke, eyeing him as they finally boarded the train.

Jareth winced, regretting allowing his expressions to reflect his emotions, although he made no concerted effort to change that. It wouldn't have mattered around Linda. She was more than just a friend to him. She had mentored him when he had first arrived on Broadway and was the closest thing he had to an elder sister or any kind of family. 

"Tell me, Gorgeous, would you prefer I played my--how did you call them? 'psychotic mental break games' --on a hapless stranger? Hmm?" He raised an eyebrow at her and she glared. 

"You do and you'll end up with a black eye so big people will think you were returning to Broadway as Screwtape." 

"Oh? Is that a promise, Gorgeous?" He raised an eyebrow. She punched him softly in the stomach and he fell back into his seat with a windmill of arms and a loud 'HUFF' that made several people in the carriage turn to look at them. 

"I barely touched you, Drama Queen," Linda snarked, her hand on her hip. 

"I know," he grinned, shifting his legs to lay across her seat. 

* * *

 The train ride to nowheresville New Hampshire was as boring as anything else in the last eleven months. The only thing that kept Jareth from expiring of atrophy in his seat was his and Linda's petty bickering. Trees and rivers were great and all, but even their novelty wore off after... ooh, two-point-eight seconds?  

Jareth was feeling relieved when the train finally pulled into the station until Linda reminded him that they still had half-an-hours' drive. He huffed and carted their bags to the car Linda had ordered and slammed them into the trunk. Taking care to push the passenger seat most of the way back, Jareth slid in and had dropped the seat to laying flat almost before Linda knew he was in the car. 

"Are you gonna sulk the whole time?" She asked, raising a brow. 

Jareth pointedly ignored her, buckling himself in and waving a languid hand to indicate that he was ready to leave. 

"Jareth?" Linda asked. Her tone was different. She was serious. He opened his eyes and looked at her, raising a brow in question. 

"If you truly want to go home, I won't force you to come with me. You know that, right?" She asked, her brow wrinkling. 

Jareth sighed, his face simultaneously relaxing and showing the strain placed on it. 

"I know," he said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "I also know that you're right. I ought to do this. I actually _want_ to do this. Even if it is just a month in nowheresville, I feel that it might do me some good. If anything can. Heavens above, I feel a hundred," he suddenly groaned, running his hands over his face. The cool leather creaked underneath him.

Linda reached out a hand to brush his fringe away from his brow. "I know, Jare, I know. Believe me, if there's nothing else about you that I can fully understand, that feeling is one that I know. That's part of why I take this vacation. Apart from Sarah, I mean." 

Sarah.

Princess.

Jareth both thrilled and sickened at that name. At one moment it felt filled with destiny and power then, in the next moment, it reminded him of his failure.

Jareth hated Sarah. Oh, not the daughter Linda occasionally spoke of, but the name. He had a feeling connected to the name Sarah. The only way he could describe it was that it was a _rich_ feeling. He hated it. It was good but made him sick to his stomach if he dwelt on it too long. 

He shook himself, pulling his hands away from his eyes and looking up at Linda again.

He smiled. An honest smile. She smiled back. An understanding one. 

"Well? Drive," he said, abruptly pulling his seat to the appropriate sitting position. "You might as well show me your nowheresville." 

Linda beamed. 

* * *

The hotel was dingy but clean, and almost stiff with respectability. Jareth felt like he'd just walked across a line of salt. The desk clerk unbent enough to smile at Linda, but stiffened when she saw Jareth. 

"Should I offer you a double room, my dear?" she asked, raising an elderly eyebrow.

Linda met her raised eyebrow with a raised eyebrow. 

"Why no, this is just my co-worker, Jareth. He'll need as nice a room as you usually give me, Alberta. He's feeling a little run down and so I dragged him along with me on my vacation." Linda explained. 

"Kicking and Screaming," added Jareth. Alberta's mouth twitched just a fraction, and she nodded at Linda, pretending to ignore Jareth. 

"I think I have just the rooms for you. I saved your usual, my dear, but I have just as good a one on the opposite side of the hallway. It's lucky you came on a slow week, or I wouldn't have had it." She added dryly. 

"She always says that," Linda explained, as she and Jareth dragged their bags up the stairs to the top flight. "It makes you feel that she's important. Although in the late summer months, she's usually not wrong. She also," Linda puffed, taking a break and stopping to look at Jareth, "does not approve of divorce. Especially the re-marriage part. I believe she gives Irene the side-eye whenever they meet in town, although she's pleasant enough to Robert and myself."

Jareth nodded, and Linda started up the stairs again. 

"You'd think that after climbing these stairs practically every summer for fifteen years I'd be used to it, but I'm not," she complained. 

"Then why, exactly, do you submit yourself to this torture?" Jareth complained right back as they reached the top landing. "And a better question," he went on, "why are you submitting me to it?" 

"The staircase is a back-breaker," Linda admitted, fitting her key into the lock, "But the view is so entirely worth it." 

The door swung open to reveal a room much like the rest of the hotel: dingy, clean, and respectable. It was furnished in an old New-England style, which should not have surprised Jareth in the least. There was a four poster bed, a writing desk, and horribly out of place, an old TV. And outside the window was the quaintest park imaginable, a stream running through the middle of it. Across the stream there stretched a bridge of old grey stone and just over the treetops there stood a steeple clock tower in the same material. It was a scene from a fairy story. 

"Oh Linda," Jareth breathed. "It's absolutely heavenly." 

Linda nodded. She looked around the room with a familiar glance. "Even the room grows a type of charm after fifteen years spent in it," she murmured. 

Jareth was still gazing out at the picture postcard perfection of the little park when Linda shook herself and suggested they check the view from the other room. He left the window reluctantly and turned back to enter the hallway and see what lay behind door number two. As the door across the corridor creaked open, Linda stifled a giggle. The room was similarly furnished, but the view from the window, instead of looking on any quaint picture postcard scene, looked instead onto the path of the main street and the dingy fronts of the shops. 

Jareth raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Now, this _is_ a view to die for, isn't it, Gorgeous? I don't know what you were showing me that other rubbish for, this is the real gold of the town." 

Linda stifled another giggle. "Did... did you want to switch rooms, Jare? I mean, I come here all the time, you're here for vacation-" 

"As are you," Jareth interrupted her. "I won't hear of switching rooms, and that's that." He pulled his bag into the room and dropped onto the bed, kicking his legs over the end board. 

"If you're sure," Linda relented. "But if you want to, just borrow my key and come in to enjoy the view every once in a while." 

Jareth waved his languid hand again. "Of course, of course. I may actually take you up on that, too. But whatever happens, don't let our dear Alberta hear that." He threw a wink at Linda and she smiled again. 

"Alright. Well, I'm gonna get set up for the month. Call me if you need anything, Jare."

Jareth waved his hand again, the parting gesture of a dying monarch, and Linda laughed, leaving him to his peace. 

* * *

Jareth was tired. Too tired. 

He lay on the bed in his hotel room, eyes firmly shut, mind and body begging for sleep, and yet rest would not come. 

Finally, he relented, turning over to view the baleful glowing numbers of the clock. It was only 5:30? How could that be? It felt as if the afternoon had dragged on at least a week. He stood and paced, stretching himself over and over as he moved back from one side of the tiny room to the other. Tired yet restless, exhausted yet moving... he continued on. 

Maybe... maybe if he got out of here. Maybe if he went and immersed himself in that picture postcard park, he could finally find some rest. If nothing else, he might at least exhaust whatever energy was still floating around him and propping him up. 

He went to his window and flung it open, smelling the air. The air itself was charged with the sort of electric energy that foretold a storm. Maybe that was it. He'd always been sensitive to the weather, and every directors' instinct was begging him to take advantage of the power in the air. If only he could bottle the feeling that came with the storm... 

He drew his head in and closed the window, averse to finding that in his haste he had let in any future rain. Grabbing only his key, he ambled downstairs and out, in search of that lovely park. 

He found it with ease, tucked away among large stands of trees. It lacked something of the postcard effect from the ground, but it was still lovely. Jareth eyed the trees warily. As a boy in England, he'd had quite a few experiences climbing trees. It was actually a fall out of one such that had permanently dilated his left pupil. He hummed, his eyes dancing over the forest sentries until he selected one right on the bank of the stream. It was a large tree, with branches stretching to the sky from all along the trunk. Perfect. 

He strode towards it and gripped one of the lower branches, bracing his foot against another and  _pulling_. The bark bit into his hands and flaked away under his grip, but he pulled himself onto the branch with no other difficulty. Kneeling on one branch, he balanced his weight carefully and shifted until he could grab another sturdy branch. Again and again, he did this, climbing higher and higher until, at one point, there was a break in the foliage from a broken branch and Jareth could look out on a different view of the picture postcard. 

He paused there, looking out over the scene when he saw someone coming over the bridge. It was a young girl, perhaps in her late teenage years, carrying a little boy of no more than four, and accompanied by a large sheepdog. 

The girl's build was slight, mostly disguised by the long medieval dress she was wearing. Her hair was dark and thick, pinned up into a knot at the back of her neck, and topped with a flower crown of tiny white plastic buds. She set down the toddler, who ran off with the dog a little ways away. She called after them to not go too far, but otherwise, let them go without notice. Carefully, she pulled out a red leather-bound diary out from her sleeve, tracing the two short words on the front with love. 

"I'm sorry," she murmured, just high enough for Jareth to hear, "I wish I had the time to play all of you." 

And then, closing the book and concealing it in her sleeve, she started to Act. 

It was clear she was picking out the best moments of something as she acted around the park, cowering here, pointing there, pleading in another place. She was never close enough for Jareth to get a firm bead on what she was acting out until nearly an hour and a half later when she came to the bridge again, racing across it in a mad sprint before slowing to a standstill near his tree. 

Gently, the girl reached out a hand to an unseen entity, seemingly embodied in a stone obelisk a ways from the bridge.

"Give me the child," she pleaded. 

Jareth stiffened.

There was a beat of silence where the obelisk, if it had been a Goblin King, would have answered. 

"Through Dangers Untold, and Hardships Unnumbered, I have  _fought_ my way here, to the castle  _beyond_ the Goblin City... to take back the child that you. have. stolen. For my will is as strong as yours. And My Kingdom Is As Great!" 

A thunderclap cut her off and she looked at the sky warily. 

Jareth was stunned. Those were _his_ words. The words of his play, "The Maze." The words he'd thought everyone hated. **She'd said the words**. 

She was muttering to herself now. Finally, she stomped her foot and cursed. "I can never remember that line," she grumbled while digging in the sleeve of her dress. She extracted the book again and read the final words without emotion, trying to cement them in her head. 

"Sarah! Sarah!" the toddler called. The girl looked up from the book to see the boy covered from head to toe in mud, and followed by an equally muddy sheepdog. 

"Oh, Toby! Look at you! You're so filthy, you look like a Goblin! No, don't touch that," she added, pushing the book up her sleeve again, "I'll read it to you when we get home if you want." 

The toddler nodded eagerly and the girl scooped him up in her arms again with an "Uppsy-Daisy." 

"We're gonna get really wet in a bit here, so hold on tight while I run, Tobes, okay?" the girl asked, hitching up her skirts to reveal a sensible pair of jeans and loafers underneath the medieval costume. At the toddlers' nod, she took off running, calling out to "Merlin" the dog to follow her as she dashed across the bridge and away down the street. 

* * *

The rain had come moments after the girl left. 

Jareth stood out under the rain, watching it fall around him and feeling it seep into his clothes and shoes and hair, right down to his skin, ... and he smiled. 

Smiled? No! Grinned! Beamed! Laughed! He was... Exultant! He threw his arms to the heavens and welcomed the cleansing rain. He danced for the thunder and the lightning. Actually danced, as he had never danced before for anyone else. 

He danced in the rain until he couldn't dance anymore. When he stopped, he stood in the middle of the park, soaked and panting, but _alive_ and _inspired_ and _loving. it_. 

What a fool he'd been to think the Princess was a married woman! The child her son?! No! He was her  _brother_ of course! And a young wife would _of course_ sacrifice for her child! But what better character development for a teenage  _sister_ to give up everything for her little brother! He was a fool! 

And what _D_ _olt_ would set a fairy story in a fairy time?! He was losing his edge! But a dreamer in the disappointing modern world? Who was offered everything she had ever dreamed about? And turned it down for family love? _Much_ better theater! 

He laughed as he turned towards his temporary home, the hotel, the image of the girl dashing away firmly fixed in his mind, her long skirts swept up to reveal those ridiculous jeans. It was such a  _young_ thing to do, wearing your costume over your regular clothes. It was... refreshing. His mind was clear, his imagination revived, and all for the sake of a teenager who played pretend in the park. 

What had the boy called her again? Ah yes, Sarah. He laughed, thinking over his early tirade against the name. What a fool he'd been. It was the perfect name! Especially for a Princess. Of _course_ it was a rich name! There were eons of potential and power and imagination in that name, after all. Yes, his new Princess' name would be Sarah. That would fit her. 

He practically soared to his room, humming the strains of an old broadway melody. Not pausing to grab towels or change clothes, he dumped out his suitcase onto his bed and felt around the bottom of it for the pocket where he kept his emergency notebook and pen, hoping against hope that he hadn't tossed them in his despair. Finding them (thank the heavens), he quickly dropped them on the top of the pile of clothes and stripped his wet shirt off. Then, finding his patience exhausted and his fingers shaking with the need to pick up his pen, he dropped onto the bed to begin writing.  

"Jareth?" Linda spoke from the doorway, "You alright there, Hon?" 

His head popped up, eyes shining, to beam at her. " _Fantastic!_ " 

Linda blinked. "Oookay?" 

He shook his head. "I can't explain it, and you'll never believe what happened, so don't ask me. Just know this- I am not finished with "The Maze", nor is it finished with me." 

"Oh, Jareth... Are you sure?" Linda was chewing her lip, her brow suddenly wrinkled. 

Jareth nodded, ecstatic but solemn. "Perfectly. And I have you to thank for it, my lovely friend." He stood and crossed the room to her, quickly wrapping her in a hug. When that didn't relieve his feelings, he lifted her up in a tight squeeze and spun her around.

They were laughing when he set her down and pressed a loving kiss to her temple. "It's all thanks to you, Love. If you hadn't brought me here, my imagination would never have returned, I know that." He threw back his head and laughed. "I feel like a lad of ten!" 

"It would seem so!" Linda laughed. She patted his shoulder in a friendly manner. "Alright, Genius, I won't intrude. You'll tell me when you've calmed down some, though, won't you?" 

Jareth nodded, "Of course! I can't now, but I will as soon as I can!" 

They parted with another quick hug, each going to their separate rooms, and neither noticing Madame Alberta's frowning eyes watching them from the lower landing. 

* * *

"Well  _really_." Irene William's ironic tones came from the back porch. 

Sarah Williams looked quite a picture. Toby sat perched on her hip, covered in mud, which, along with the mud from the street, was now covering her pretty green costume. At her feet stood the faithful sheepdog, Merlin, similarly covered in mud. Her hair was coming out from its clip in strings and wet strands, and her pretty green eyes were worried and upset.

Irene shook her head. "Look at this, you three are covered in mud! It would serve you right if I banished all three of you to the Garage!" She kept up her mad act for about thirty seconds more before she caved and shook her head again with a smile. "Come on. All three of you. You and Toby will bring in enough mud that it doesn't matter if Merlin comes in too." 

Sarah smiled. In the years since Toby had begun to crawl, and then toddle and get into messiness, Irene had relaxed her strict rules when it came to Merlin and mud. "Thanks, Irene. I'll wash them both, I promise, and clean up the mud." 

"Thank you, Sarah, although I'm afraid that puts the final kibosh on seeing your mother tonight. And don't worry about the mud in the hallway, I've got it." Irene followed her stepdaughter up the stairs and into the bathroom, grabbing towels from the closet. 

"Mom's here?" Sarah asked, plopping Toby straight into the bathtub. 

"Mm, she pulled in tonight and wanted to take us to dinner. Thankfully I'd already declined because of the rain and that I couldn't get a hold of you." 

Sarah paused for a second at the thought that her stepmother had rejected the invitation out of hand, but pushed on without comment. 

Irene paused herself, guessing at Sarah's thoughts. "Of course, I- I told her that you would absolutely be free for breakfast and we agreed that Friday would be a much better day for a family dinner." 

Sarah smiled again and nodded. "I'm sure you're right, Irene. Thank you." 

Irene returned the gesture, sensing the dismissal in her daughter's words. "I should be getting back to our own dinner. Thank you again for washing them, Sarah, I'll call you when dinner is ready." 

Sarah turned her attention to Toby and soon had him washed and toweled off, as well as Merlin, whose intrusion into Toby's tub had caused great merriment. When that was done, they joined her dad and Irene for dinner and Toby begged for Sarah to put him to sleep with the story of The Maze again. Sarah agreed and cuddled down with him and her little red diary, which she had bought especially for the purpose of painstakingly transcribing every word of "The Maze" to a sturdier home. 

Toby drifted off in the middle and Sarah saved her spot, determining to continue when she went to her own bed. Going back downstairs to tell Irene that Toby was out for the count, she paused on the landing, looking over at her father and Irene dancing in the living room. A painful pinch came to her heart as she remembered a similar scene with Daddy and her own mother before the fights had started. She didn't really resent Irene. Not anymore. But it hurt a little to see her father give her the look he had once given Linda. And at the same moment, she was jealous. After all, at seventeen Sarah herself had never had anyone to dance with. She had never had anyone to look at the way Irene was looking at her father. 

Sarah sighed and turned away, going back to her room and sliding into bed. She eyed the little red book beside her warily. Her hand stole out to it and she drew it towards herself. She knew her love of the play was somewhat odd and unprecedented, but she couldn't find it in herself to put it away. It was so delicious, so enticing! The poor Princess! And her handsome Prince, and devilish Goblin King, both fighting to keep her attention. But in the end, she chooses her child and her husband... how beautiful and lovely. How unlike her own life. 

Maybe that's why she loved it so much. Maybe because she could see her mother in the beautiful Princess. Maybe because, in those moments when she played out the heartwrenching final scenes, Sarah could become Linda, and live through her. Maybe because in reading her mothers' gift to her, Sarah read a regret that Linda hadn't chosen her husband and child. 

Whatever the reason, Sarah opened the book and began to read again. 

* * *

Across town, Jareth closed his notebook with a happy sigh, running his fingers over the binding and smiling. It wasn't perfect yet, but it was a start. A darn sight better start than "The Maze" had had. He even had snatches of new song lyrics floating through his head, and he hummed a few new notes that intrigued him. 

With a smug smile, Jareth laid back in bed and turned out the light, finally drifting off to sweet snatches of hummed music, and the mental image of a girl in a costume and jeans running away from the rain. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three quick notes.  
> One, I didn't notice the connection I had accidentally made between Jareth calling Linda's hometown "nowheresville" and the "You'll come out of nowhere and into my life" from the lyrics until after I wrote it, but it was too good to not point out.  
> Two, Screwtape is the name of a Demon in the Lowerarchy of C.S.Lewis' book, "The Screwtape Letters", and if anyone is wondering what "old broadway melody" Jareth is humming, it's "Singing in the Rain." (Just imagine Jareth doing a Gene Kelley through the streets after getting an imagination jump start, I dare ya.)   
> Three, and a bit more important. I'm writing each chapter straight from my brain into the "Chapter Text" box, with no other copy, no beta reader, no editor, and often late at night, so I apologize for any inconsistencies, spelling errors, the like. Please consider yourselves my beta readers if you would, and if you see a section that needs improvement, editing, or attention, please let me know with a contribution to the little box.  
> Love y'all, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy!  
> ~Bea


	3. Brighter Than The Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2. In which Sarah meets a Strange and Intriguing Man and Jareth finally meets his muse.

**Stop me on the corner**  
**I swear you hit me like a vision**  
**I, I, I wasn't expecting**  
**But who am I to tell fate where it's supposed to go with it?**  
**Don't you blink you might miss it**  
**See we got a right to just love it or leave it**  
**You find it and keep it**  
**'Cause it ain't every day you get the chance to say**

 **Oh, this is how it starts, lightning strikes the heart**  
**It goes off like a gun, brighter than the sun**  
**Oh, we could be the stars, falling from the sky**  
**Shining how we want, brighter than the sun**

 

 

**Colbie Caillat ~ Brighter Than The Sun**

* * *

The day was cool, the sky a brilliant blue color, somewhere between cornflower blue and baby blue between the towers of snowy clouds, and the grass under Sarah Williams' head was damp and fresh. She didn't mind the coolness behind her head, or actually, underneath all of her as she lay in the middle of her favorite field in the park. It would have been hard for her to mind anything at this moment. Her mind was currently completely absorbed with the story held above her head by one lazy hand. No need to take three guesses, it was her handwritten copy of "The Maze." 

From where it rested on her stomach, Sarah's other hand leisurely brought up a firm, round, rose gold apple and, between lines, she bit into it fiercely. The apple was meaty and juicy, it's sharp tang flavoring the words of the story as she read. She smiled. She always brought an apple to eat when she reached this part of the story. Even for his cunning, it was beautiful the way the Goblin King offered his love the poisoned apple.

" 'To bring you respite on your journey, so you see me not as the enemy, for this apple like my heart, has ever been yours from the start.' "

She read the words again, taking another bite of the apple. Laying her head back, she closed her eyes as she chewed. It was so romantic. Even though Sarah rooted for the Prince and the Princess to end up happily ever after, she could still note the appeal of the Goblin King. He was a mysterious man, so strange and ... what was the word? She'd just read it somewhere and looked it up... Enigmatic. That was it. She smiled, picturing him in her minds' eye. 

Then frowned as a shadow passed over her face. And stayed there. She peeled one eye open and saw a figure leaning over her. She couldn't see the face of the figure, because the sun was shining behind it and around it like a halo through an outward fringe of fine hair that waved with every hint of a breeze. She could just catch that it was a ways above her and that it appeared to be smiling.  

" 'Ello."

The accent was strange, and the tone that of a man when the figure spoke. She froze, unsure of what to do. She was certain that she'd never seen this person before. It was almost as if her daydreams had brought their imaginings to life, and the enigmatic Fairy King of the Goblins was standing above her. She lay still, not wanting to break the spell, but the accent niggled at her and manners suggested she should reply, so she spoke.  

"Did you say ' 'ello'?" she asked. 

The man laughed, barring two rows of white teeth. "No," he corrected her gently, "I said  _hello_. But 'tis close enough." 

She could hear the 'h' this time, with his added emphasis, so it made sense. 

"Oh. Well. Hello." She didn't smile at him, but she didn't frown. She was caught somewhere between a feeling that she was caught up in a meet-cute from a paperback she found at the library and a feeling that either Irene was right and her imagination was running away with her, or that she had stayed out in the sun too long. 

"I apologize for intruding on your solitude." The man spoke again. "But you looked so like a Sleeping Beauty, waiting for her spell to break." 

His continued speaking brought Sarah back to some sense of reality, and she made to sit up, pushing her elbows behind her and rolling onto her side. The man stepped back, giving her the space to move, and Sarah pulled herself to a sitting position, taking a quick look at her clothes. 

"I'd hardly look like a princess in this outfit," Sarah pointed out, motioning to her band t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops. Even as she did so, though, she noticed that she had unconsciously assumed the position of a fainting damsel, with her legs half tucked under herself, as she'd read. 

"It's the soul of a person, not their clothes, that determines who they are." The man spoke with such authority that Sarah blinked. What kind of man can get a bead on a person's soul just by looking at them?

"You... seem very certain," she finally said. He smirked, shrugging a shoulder. 

"It's part of my job. May I join you?" He motioned to the ground with one hand. She nodded, and he dropped his leather jacket to the ground and gracefully lowered himself onto it. He looked odd, sitting on a jacket in a flawless blue button down and black jeans, and yet... singularly in his element. 

She could look at him better now that he was on more-or-less-eye-level with herself, and she unabashedly turned to do so, bringing one leg up in front of her and resting her chin on her knee. He was tall. Even sitting down, he still had a head on her, and the miles of legs stretched out in front of him would only push him taller when he stood. The fringe of his hair was exactly as golden as it had been as his halo, and the curve of his mouth formed a jagged crescent, his teeth sharp and bright in his grin. But now she could see the angles and details of his face, the lines around his eyes and across his forehead, and the color of his eyes. ... Color? Or colors?

No, color. One eye was dilated in an odd fashion, but it was still the same ice blue. What an intriguing man.

* * *

Jareth was enchanted. 

He had been wandering through town and was headed back to the hotel when he'd spied Sarah stretched out on the grass, her slim hand holding up that red book. He'd gone underneath his tree to watch her a moment, and when she'd laid her head back to savor her apple and the words of the story, he'd come forward, wanting a good look at her face. He  _had_ wanted to meet her, and thank her for her inspiration to him, and it seemed a poetic moment to begin their acquaintance. 

Now he watched as her sage green eyes traveled over him, her head twisting to the side while resting atop her knee, and her silk curtain of dark brown hair falling over her arm. He smiled as she looked over him again. Thoroughly  _enchanting_. There was no appraisal in her gaze, just observation. She seemed, in a lazy way, to be trying to figure him out.

* * *

 

"You seem very fond of that book. What is it?" the man asked. Sarah straightened up a little and looked at her book, surprised. 

"Oh, um. Well, it's... my mother brought home one of her scripts she thought I would like to see and I loved the play so much that I copied it to here." She waved the red book awkwardly. 

"Your mother?" he pressed, raising an eyebrow. He held his hand out and raised an eyebrow in inquiry. 

"Linda Williams." Sarah's head went back, and her lips quirked into a smile of pride as she handed the book to him. 

The man paused for a second, his eyebrows arching. His only comment as he brought the book closer to inspect it was a quiet "Ah."

Sarah smiled at the thought that perhaps she had impressed him with her connection to the famous actress. His hands caressingly turned the pages of the book, not stopping to read any particular page, but skimming over the hand-copied words with a soft familiarity. He smiled as he reached the end and closed it, handing it back to her. 

"It's beautifully copied," he complimented her and she blushed. Gracefully ignoring her blush, he went on. "I know that play, actually. I was one of the few who were at every performance." 

Sarah's eyes shone. "Really?! You must have really liked it! I know not a lot of people do, but I love it. Was it totally awesome to watch it live?" 

The man laughed, "Well, I'm not sure. I liked it, certainly, and that's about all I can say." 

"I'm sorry," Sarah blushed again, "It's just that I didn't even have the chance to see it played on stage and no one else seems to have liked it, so I don't have anyone to talk about it with." 

He was still smiling kindly at her, which she took to be a good sign. "Well, you can talk to me about it, and I can try to answer your questions as much as possible." He held out a hand for a handshake. "My friends call me Jare." 

Sarah raised an eyebrow, not taking his hand yet. "Are we friends?" she asked. She tried not to make it accusing, just inquisitive. 

He chuckled. "Clever girl. No, we're not friends. Yet. But I'd like to be." 

Sarah placed her hand in his. "Sarah Williams," she introduced herself. 

"I gathered," Jare spoke as he brought her hand to his lips in a quick salute. Then, quickly standing, he pulled her to her feet and offered her his arm, pretending to ignore her pleased blush. "Shall we walk?" He asked, "You can ask me anything you wish about the play, and I will answer you as best I can. Then perhaps you will allow me to ask about yourself?" 

Sarah was still blushing as she slid her hand into the crook of his arm. She wasn't entirely sure what to think about this man, and how to respond to his open suggestion. "If you really want to," she finally settled on as they turned to walk along the edge of the stream. 

It was a lovely walk. They talked for hours about the play, and how Jare had thought it had gone well, and where it had gone wrong. He was quite attached to it, Sarah learned, and she found herself in kinship with him over that. In turn, she defended a few of the points that he suggested might have been changed and even found the courage to open up about a tentative point or two that he defended.

She frowned when the clock from the church chimed and she realized that she should have been home an hour ago.

* * *

 

"Oh darn. I'm always losing track of time," she said as she stood up from the bench where they sat, under the shade of a Lilac. "I had a good time talking with you though. Thank you!" She called over her shoulder as she ran for the bridge. 

"Wait, Sarah!" Jareth called, feeling ridiculously like some Disney Prince. He jogged after her as she kept moving backwards toward the bridge. "Will I be able to meet you again?" 

She bit her lip, obviously considering the best course of action. 

"I'm only here for a month," he spurred her on. 

"I guess... I guess if you want to talk in the park again. I'm free most days- well... Well, I should be free. I don't know. If you see me in the park, feel free to talk to me. If I'm alone."  She smiled, raising her hand in an awkward wave. "I really have to go now. Bye!" 

He grinned as she ran away, stopping on the bridge to toss another wave over her shoulder. He raised a hand in farewell and watched her go, relishing in the youth and buoyancy of her spirit. Turning, he dropped back on the bench and grinned up at the sky. What a glorious day.

He nodded to himself. A quick dinner, and then bringing his notebook back to the park for a few hours of writing before it grew dark, that was all today needed to be absolutely perfect. 

* * *

Linda sighed. Sarah being late and almost an hours' stilted talk with the distracted Irene and worried Robert was all today needed to be absolutely miserable. They were pleasant enough to talk to if there was nothing on their minds, but Sarah's tendency to be late worried all of them. Add to that Madame Alberta's snide comments about Jareth this morning and tight feeling that Linda always felt on her first few days in town, and while not wretched, there was enough material there to make her distinctly uncomfortable. 

So it was with great relief that all three adults heard the sounds of running feet and the back door slamming. All three of them were on their feet and facing the door by the time Sarah came bounding in, remorseful, but flushed and healthy. Linda fought off the twinge she always felt at the sight of her beautiful young daughter and tried very hard not to feel anything but joy at the sight of her looking so well. 

"I'm sorry I'm so late, I got caught up talking with a fr- with a friend at the park, and I just lost track of time, I'm sorry..." Sarah trailed off, embracing her father and step-mother quickly, and sinking into her mother's deep hug with enthusiasm. 

"Well, I wish you would have taken Merlin with you at least. It's tourist season and you don't know who might be in town," Robert chided Sarah quietly. Sarah colored for a second and seemed almost at a loss for words, but quickly regained them. 

"That  _might_ work if Merlin wasn't even more hopeless with strangers than I am." Sarah gave a quick grin and Linda coughed to cover up her involuntary snort. "Just give me a second to change, I'll be right down!" And with that Sarah dashed up the stairs. 

"You know," said Linda quickly, "I think I'll follow her. She might want some help." 

Sarah was dashing about her room like a fairy on steroids by the time Linda reached it and had her head stuck in a closet throwing out shirts and shoes with abandon. On the bed was a pair of black jeans and when Sarah finally turned around she was holding up two button-down shirts, one red, one blue. 

She didn't seem very surprised to see Linda, just shot her a grin and held out the shirts in a silent plea for help. 

"Red, darling, if you don't have anything... hmmm. Yes. If you don't have anything peasant-shirt-ish in green. Why Irene lets you buy blue shirts with your green eyes is beyond me." Linda murmured the last words, but Sarah caught them, even as she dived back to the closet. 

"She doesn't let me buy them, she lets' Gran buy them for me. But they're still some of the best shirts I have." Sarah emerged again, holding up an obviously old-favorite green blouse with white flowers along the seams. 

Linda hummed as she leaned back against Sarah's dressing table, nodding her approval. 

"So, Sugar, it was a friend that kept you in the park too late?" Linda asked, smirking a bit. If the healthy blush on Sarah's face meant anything... well, Linda had been young herself once. 

"Yeah, he-..." Sarah stopped herself, blushing again at letting slip out that her friend was of the opposite gender. "He's alright," she amended, sitting down in the chair before her mirror and shrugging. "I actually wanted to ask you... he... he's only going to be here for another month and I told him we could talk during the day... are you... are you alright with that?" 

Linda felt a sudden twinge and had to blink rapidly to regain her composure. Sarah caught her gaze in the mirror and held it, eyes pleading to be understood, to not take this away from her, to be alright with this new change. Linda's hand reached out and began brushing her fingers through Sarah's thick curtain of hair. When her fingers had finished the simple braid, she grabbed a tie off of the vanity top and tied the braid tight. With a few deft twists, Sarah's hair was pinned up into a beautiful knot, and a few of Linda's jeweled hairpins were holding it in place. 

Linda's hands smoothed over her handiwork, and she leaned down to place a quick kiss on her daughters' head. 

"My little baby's all grown up," she said at last, with a sad little smile. 

Sarah spun in her chair, big green cats-eyes once again pleading with Linda to understand. "I'm not replacing you, you know. And anyway, it's only this year. And we'll still have plenty of time-" 

"I know, Sugar. But you're growing up. And soon you'll be in college. Oh I know it's still a little early to think about, but... I'm... I'm glad you have a friend you want to spend time with." 

Robert's voice called up from downstairs that they were going to be late if they didn't hurry. Sarah jumped up and hugged her mother. 

"Thank you, Momma. I'm so glad you're not upset." 

Linda smiled, hugging her daughter tighter to prevent her from seeing the single tear that leaked out of the older woman's' eye. Then she let her go with a laugh. "You have to tell me everything when you have the time, though. Equivalent exchange. You have to tell me all about your 'alright' friend." 

Sarah blushed again. "Not much to tell really. Not tonight. We just talked, honestly." 

Linda smiled, shaking her head. "Alright, darling. I see that I'll have to be content with that. Now lets' scoot, before your father has that heart attack he's always threatening. I booked us a table at The Common Man, and I hear dinner is going to be to die for." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I was going to make this longer, but y'all have been patient and for that I thank ye. *tips hat* I hope it's to your liking.  
> -The Common Man is the name of two restaurants in New Hampshire (Thank you google maps) and I figured that, for the sake of preventing this story being tied down to any particular time or place, I would go for the more common (haha) restaurant name.  
> -I have a Tumblr Blog for my fanfics now! You can find me at https://there-was-a-star-danced-ao3.tumblr.com/ under the blog name Beatrice Bellerose. You can use it to contact me more freely, get to know me, introduce yourself, find other fandoms you might like, get updates on current fics and what else I'm working on, request fic ideas, engage in contests and the like for my fics, all that fun stuff. Hopefully, I'll have more time to run it than I did this past week, and there will be more content than the opening 'getting to know me' post soon. :) Looking forward to seeing you there! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this latest installment of The Realms of Eccentricity! See you next time! Addio!  
> ~Bea


	4. Magic Carpet Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3. Linda settles a bet, Jareth asks a question, and Linda finds out all about Sarah's "friend"

 

**Well, you don't know what**  
**We can find**  
**Why don't you come with me little girl**  
**On a magic carpet ride**

**Well, you don't know what**  
**We can see**  
**Why don't you tell your dreams to me**  
**Fantasy will set you free**

 

**Steppenwolf ~ Magic Carpet Ride**

* * *

“So is it your boyfriend staying with you at the hotel?”

Linda choked on her coffee, setting it down quickly. When she had cleared her throat, she glared at Sarah.

Around them, the pleasant sounds of morning chatter filled the little cafe. It was a charming place that tried to emulate the French “sidewalk cafe” feel, including Parisian music and hanging baskets of plants. Sarah and Linda had snagged a table near the window, so they had the added advantage of the warmth of the morning sun sinking into skins and making them stretch and purr like cats. At least, they had been until Sarah popped her question. 

“Sugar Bee, never ask me questions like that while I’m drinking something. That was a waste of good coffee.”

Sarah grinned, not at all abashed, and leaned forward, her chin in her hands. 

“Well? Is it?” She pressed. 

“How did you even know I brought someone with me?” Linda returned, raising an eyebrow. 

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Madame Alberta, Mom. I saw her yesterday, and she tried to ‘warn’ me. Apparently, she saw you and your guest kissing.” 

Linda gaped. “Okay, no, he kissed me on the cheek because he was grateful-”

“Shirtless.” Sarah broke in, hiding a smug grin. 

“He was changing shirts after coming in from being rained on! Gosh, when did you grow up?” Linda frowned at her, blushing. 

Sarah just kept grinning, knowing her mother could cut her off with a single word if she was against being questioned. She wiggled her eyebrows and kept grinning. “So? Who is it, Mom? You’ve been holding out on me.” 

Linda straightened in her seat and sniffed. “I have not. Clear your mind of such thoughts, my child. I have not brought home a boyfriend.” She took another sip of her coffee. 

Sarah wrinkled her nose. “Uh, yeah, no. I’m gonna need more evidence than that.” 

“Suspicious chit,” Linda huffed.

“Two words. Kissing. Shirtless.” Sarah broke pose to have another sip of her coffee, a campfire mocha. She raised her eyebrows at her mother over the rim of her cup, letting her know she was not getting away this time. She swallowed her sip, then spoke. “So, if he’s not your boyfriend, then who is he?” 

Linda grinned, leaning over the table between them. Sarah’s eyes brightened at the confidential pose, and she leaned forward too. 

“Do you promise not to tell anyone?” Linda asked, raising an eyebrow. Sarah nodded. “I mean it, Sugar Bee. He’s here on holiday, it wouldn’t do for anyone to find him.” 

“I swear, Mom. Cross my heart.” Sarah bounced in her seat and sat even more forward. 

“All right. The man I brought with me... is... Glitter McGlitterson, the High King of Drama.” Linda sat back in her seat, a smug grin across her face. 

“Mo-o-om!” Sarah’s disappointed groan rang through the cafe and turned a few curious eyes on them. 

“That’s what being nosey gets you.” Linda grinned. “And I’m serious! Well, partially. He’s a friend of mine, a playwright and songwriter who has had a bad couple of years and needed a vacation and some help to get him out of his funk. It wouldn’t do for anyone to hear that he was here.” 

Sarah eyed her mother for a moment. “You care about him, don’t you?” 

Linda smiled and reached over to pat her daughter’s hand. “Yes. I do. But I’m not doing this for him.” 

Sarah raised her eyebrows with a silent question. Linda sighed. 

“I’m doing this for you, Sugar Bee. I’m not as popular now as I was when you were a child, but I’m still up there in public opinion. And where there is popularity, there will be people digging for scandal. You and your father had enough of that during the divorce, so I’ve tried my hardest to keep any nosy press people away from you. I wanted you to grow up having and loving your privacy because, in the public eye, it’s gone. Being a stage actress is better than being a film actress, but that doesn’t mean I get much of a break. 

“I didn’t think about it when I first invited him. All I was trying to do was to save him from a mental break. But when I invited J- my friend, I invited trouble on you again. If anyone finds out he came here, after a year of being a recluse, it would be big news, enough to make some paparazzi man’s career. If I don’t tell you anything about it, you’ll have... what is that term? Presidents use it...”

“Plausible deniability.” Sarah nodded. “All right, I can understand that. But Mom, I’m seventeen. You don’t have to defend me anymore. I can take care of myself.” 

Linda sighed. Sarah sighed too, wishing that people remembered that she was nearly a legal adult. Linda’s hand rested on hers, and Sarah looked into her eyes. Deep in them was a multi-layered concern and love and worry that called out to Sarah not to take this the wrong way. 

“You’re still my baby, Sarah. Someday, I would love for you to join me on stage and be in the public eye with me. But for now, you’re still my baby and I reserve the right to protect you from what I can. And as for J- my friend, the less you know about him, the better. Okay?” 

Sarah sighed again but nodded. She may have grown out of her yelling and screaming tantrum phase, but it always hurt for someone to assume she was still a child. They meant well, but she was almost an adult. Still, she knew better than to argue with her mother, for fear Linda might not come back next summer. That had always been a lingering worry for Sarah, and she still allowed it to control her. 

She forced a smile at her mother and mentioned a book she’d just gotten from the library. Linda smiled back and accepted the change of topic with practiced grace, asking Sarah questions and bringing the mood of the conversation back to almost the level where they had started.

 

* * *

“Are you all right? You seem sad.” Jareth asked his fair companion later that day. She looked up at him and shrugged. The light shining through the branches of the trees played out dapples on her face, and a playful wind pulled at strands of her hair, which hung around her shoulders. Jareth often wondered how she could stand the heat with that head of hair always draped around her like a shawl. 

“Sorry. Just... thinking about my Mom.” She tried to smile and change the topic. “You were talking about The Prince?” 

“I was. And now I’m talking about you. What about your mother?” Jareth caught her eye and held it with his own. It was not a gaze to look away from. 

Sarah gulped and spoke. “Well, just... it’s stupid. I just wish she would stop treating me like a child.” 

Jareth frowned. “How Old _Are_ You?” 

“Well, seventeen, but-” Jareth cut her off with a raised eyebrow. She huffed. “Yeah, okay, so I am still technically a minor, but how am I gonna learn to be an adult if no one lets me take any risks?” She frowned at Jareth and he grinned. 

“I would say meeting a stranger in a park near-daily is quite a risk, my little friend.” He was only poking fun at her, but the blush on her cheeks and nervous lip-bite stopped him. He raised an eyebrow. “They... don’t know you’re meeting me here, do they?” 

“Of course they do!” Sarah broke in. “At least...” 

Clever girl. At least she hadn’t lost all sense of security. Unfortunately, she had already let too much slip.

“At least they know you’re meeting someone, but not who. Now, what did you say to placate them to you being so often from home?” He balanced his elbow on his knee and propped his chin on the back of his hand. He honed his gaze on her and began to deduce from body language what he could about her. 

* * *

Sarah blushed under his gaze and sighed. “I usually spend this much time away. And with Mom in town, I get a pass from watching Toby. So I only had to explain my absence to Mom. I told her I had a friend that was only here another month and she just... didn’t ask questions.” 

Jare threw back his head and laughed. “My what a devious duck you are! So your father and step-mother believe you to be with your mother, and your mother believes you to be with a friend that your father and step-mother approve of, and all the time you’re with me! Oh, that is capital!” 

“Hey! Not all the time!” Sarah huffed. Jare only laughed again, so to make her point, Sarah stood up. “Well, I don’t have to sit around being laughed at,” she grumbled, brushing herself off and moving away. 

Jare’s laugh followed her for a few steps, and Sarah felt a tug to her hair as he fell into step beside her. Darn his long legs. 

“Oh, don’t fuss, Sarah.” He sighed with amusement and kept pace with her, making his case. “I won’t laugh at you again. Not about this. It’s our little secret.” 

Sarah stopped short, making him go a step further and turn to face her, his amused grin on full display. 

“How can you say that? You’re laughing at me right now!” She waved a hand at his face and he leaned back to avoid her hand. 

“I am not  _laughing_. I said I wouldn’t  _laugh_. I never promised to hold back my amusement.” He kept up that infuriating grin and Sarah huffed, crossing her arms and turning away.

She just couldn’t help one tiny glance over her shoulder to see if it was working, and that was her undoing. The concerned pucker that had drawn his brows together melted like snow and the grin came back, although tempered.

“Come now, little friend, don’t be cross! Please?” he asked, eyebrows raising in a silent plea. 

* * *

_“Good heavens,”_  he thought,  _“_ _what, in all this crazy, spinning, blue-green world, am I doing?”_

And then Sarah looked up from underneath her lashes. Her lips twitched, then pursed, then twitched again. Then she smiled and stepped away. He grinned and followed her, unwilling to give up the game for a slight bit of confusion.  

“Am I forgiven little friend?” he asked, coming beside her again. 

“I suppose so. If you promise not to laugh at me again.” Her nose raised in the air and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. 

“I am afraid you must forgive me without my promise. You are too amusing to forego laughing at you altogether. But I will do my best to hold myself in check on serious subjects. Will that do for you?” He raised his eyebrows at her. She shot him another sidelong glance, that he met with another tilt of the head. She sighed, holding down her smile. 

“Oh all right,” she sighed. “If I must, I must.” Her facade broke, and she grinned at him, wrinkling her nose. He grinned back, reaching up to tug another lock of hair. 

“Well. Now that you have my promise to hold back my amusement to the minimum, what were you telling me about your mother earlier?” 

Sarah sighed, although less sadly than before. “Mom just told me this morning that she spends a lot of time trying to keep paparazzi away from us and she’s worried she broke that by bringing her friend here. You should have taken the bet on him you’d have won.”

“I told you, I don’t bet on sure things,” Jareth exclaimed, before motioning her to continue. She smiled and did so.

“I told her I was old enough to handle any nosy reporter, and she responded with the ‘you’re still my baby’ line that is just so dang hard to fight, you know? And I just... I just wish she’d stop treating me like I’m a baby. I’m nearly a legal adult.” Sarah bit her lip and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to draw some comfort from that as they walked. 

Jareth nodded, considering what he knew of Linda and Sarah’s relationship.

“I would be careful about how you push back, Duck. Actresses are more sensitive to the question of age than most, and that you keep bringing up that you’re nearly an adult is only making it worse for her. She likes to think she’s still young, and having a younger daughter can help with that, if only for a time.” 

“But that’s not fair!” Sarah threw up her hands. “It’s not my fault that time just keeps going on and on and on, no one can change that! So why do I get punished for it?” 

“Hardly punished, Sarah.” Jareth pointed out, raising his eyebrow again. Sarah huffed, turning away. 

“I suppose not,” she grumbled. 

“If I were you, Sarah, I would appeal to her vanity. No, don’t gape at me like that, everyone has it. Appeal to the fact that you look so much alike. Perhaps, if you have the aid of a good accomplice that she won’t see as one, get someone to ask if you’re sisters or something. She wants to have you for a best friend but is hindered because she is your mother. If you can get her to accept that she doesn’t  _look_  like your mother, I feel that she will be much more willing to allow you into her circle.” Jareth smiled down at his little friend and found her gaping at him. 

“You think I should...? I mean, to my Mother? Just to try to get into her to open up to me?” Sarah asked, amazed. 

Jareth nodded. “Yes, I do. The world doesn’t just ‘come right’ all the time. Sometimes you have to give it a push or two to get what you want. And there’s no law to say that because you love someone you can’t ... well, try to influence them, shall we say?” 

Sarah raised a hand to her mouth and bit the side of her finger in thought. “I... I hadn’t thought about it that way,” she finally said. 

* * *

Sarah glanced at Jare, not sure of the keen look in his eyes. He caught her glance and smiled knowingly. She blushed and looked away around the park as they kept walking. They were coming to a more secluded area, and there was a bank of lilacs with a bench under their spreading branches. Her legs were getting tired so, without consulting Jare, she went to go sit down. Jare joined her, as she knew he would. 

He was an odd man. She didn’t know why he wanted to spend time with her, but whenever she came to the park alone, he would find her. She would worry if it wasn’t obvious that he had no interest in her other than... well, academic, she supposed. She could tell he liked it when they discussed “The Maze,” and was interested in her state of mind so long as they came back to the subject at hand: their shared love of an obscure Broadway musical. 

Despite only a passing interest in her affairs, he always gave good advice. A little odd sometimes, like the time he offered salt to get rid of the bitterness in coffee, but always sound. She supposed it was because he had lived longer than her and in a different circle and had so much more experience.

That was another thing she couldn’t pin down about him: his age. She knew he was older than her by a solid margin, but his age had somehow nothing to do with his attitude. At some moments he could be sober and wise, and she saw his experiences he in his eyes. Then at other moments, he would be dramatic and joking. And at other times he would make a whistle from a grass stem or dare her who could get their feet higher in the tree. (She still hadn’t quite forgiven him for the way he won that contest. It shouldn’t be fair to do a handstand at the top of a tree.) 

Determined not to become peeved at him, she steered away from his absurd contests and thought back on the advice he had given her about Linda. It might work. Knowing the little she did of him, it would work. She was almost certain she wouldn’t need an accomplice, though. She certainly fancied the idea that Linda wanted to be her best friend. Wait, how had he said that again?

* * *

“Hey, Jare?” Jareth turned from his survey of the park sweeping below them and raised an eyebrow at her. She was frowning, puzzled. “How do you know that my mother wants to be my best friend?” 

Jareth had to admit it surprised him. For a brief period, he had forgotten the girl knew nothing about his connection to Linda. He wasn’t sure how he forgot, but he let it slide and covered for his mistake. 

“My dear little friend, I have known many actresses with teenage daughters. There are two things universal to them. They love to be loved, and they have a measure of vanity. No woman in her right mind would turn away an adoring daughter, nor would they enjoy losing their place to them. The balance is best friends.” Jareth shrugged and examined his nails with a frown. 

“Oh. Hmm. Elementary, my dear Sherlock.” Sarah hummed. A small smile played about her face as she watched him. He didn’t mind. Being watched was far too familiar for him to worry about it.

They were silent and turned their attention back to the park before them. Jareth was loving this little park. Not as an aesthetically pleasing nature setting, but as a place with memories, he was fond of. There was the tree he had bested his little friend at climbing in. A little further down was the bridge he first saw her run across in her green ‘Camelot Dress’. Somewhere out of sight, the ice cream stand where he had treated Sarah and Toby to ice cream cones was tinkling its little melody to draw customers to its location. 

He would miss this. It was almost half-way through the allotted month for his and Linda’s vacation. The thought briefly crossed his mind that perhaps he could stay when Linda had to return to New York. And then he remembered what Sarah had said of Linda’s worry about paparazzi and dismissed his half-formed idea. For him, it was less of a worry for Sarah or her family’s privacy and more a reticence to draw undue attention to the town. It was picturesque as it was, and Linda didn’t deserve to have her retreat spoiled.  ~~~~And if he should return, he wouldn’t want to find it spoiled either. Perhaps it was best that he leave the whole situation as an Idyllic memory.

Well, the scene at least. He frowned at leaving Sarah as a memory.

He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to leave her behind. There was something so fresh and youthful about the girl that he could never quite get enough of. She would be a fantastic addition to the stage. Yes, that must be it. His casting instincts were kicking in and telling him that there was a potential artist in her. His mouth twitched in a smile. With a bit of proper training, that enthusiastic acting that had first drawn him to her would knock the world flat. 

He stood, turning and offering a hand to her. 

“Tell me, my dear,” he asked a twinkle in his eye. “Have you given any thought to acting as a career?” 

* * *

 

Linda set down her dollar store novel and gazed sadly out at the park from her bedroom window. The downside of having time to herself was that it gave her too much time to think.

Sarah was growing up. There was no doubt about that. She had tried as hard as she could to keep Sarah her baby, and Sarah even acted like a baby sometimes, but it was the hard truth that Sarah’s life would change. The world was a harsh place. Linda only hoped that when Sarah found that out, she would have someone there to catch her. 

Another part of Linda begged for her to invite Sarah to New York. If the girl would get a dose of reality soon, part of Linda wanted to give it to Sarah herself. She could temper the dosage then.  _She_  could be the one to pick Sarah up when she fell. 

It was a pleasing image and well worth the viewing. But, sighing, she placed it on her mental shelf of “ideas to go into later.” It wouldn’t do to think about it too much. She could almost see herself becoming like Jareth, with his Machiavellian games. 

She turned her gaze outward and looked closer at the people she could see milling about. There weren’t many. The only interesting people were the two who were circling each other like tigers in a cage, their lazy hand motions moving between them like fencers’ foils. 

They crushed the ground beneath their feet, speaking of a long verbal engagement. The man’s whole body spoke arrogance and assurance, one hand on his hip, chest stuck out like a peacock, the other arm tapping a stick against his leg like a riding crop. The woman, or perhaps girl, had a grounded assurance. Her chin flew out in maidenly pride, her hands flung out in a demand. One moment she pleaded, the next she threatened. 

The man moved to one side of her. She twisted and turned to face him, backing up and keeping their distance. Though she could not hear them, Linda could almost see the words flying between them in a quick series of moves. Only one would leave this verbal duel. 

So intent was Linda observing who would win that she barely recognized her feeling of familiarity with them. And then, as the tensions rose on the dueling field, the girl stopped. In a moment, her act vanished. Her hands went to her hips and her head tilted in confusion. The man’s act dropped too. His hands caught themselves behind his back, and he leaned forward at the hips to tease his companion. 

Linda gasped. That... that was Jareth! But who...?

The girl threw up her hands and stomped her foot. 

Linda couldn’t gasp again. She was too astounded. Of all the... she couldn’t believe it... Sarah! 

Jareth reached out and tugged a strand of Sarah’s hair. Sarah slapped his hand away and then poked him in the chest with an emphatic forefinger, emphasizing some sentence Linda couldn’t hear. Jareth shook his head again, mocking her to her face. Sarah huffed and folded her arms across her chest, turning away from him. Jareth stepped closer and tried to get her attention. Sarah finally relented and held out a hand to him. They shook hands solemnly, and then separated to their ends of the circle, and began the scene again. 

Linda watched them, astounded. She had wondered at Jareth’s calm demeanor and demands to be alone in “Nowheresville,” but Jareth often wanted to be alone when he was feeling inspired. And now his inspiration was a muse, and his muse was Sarah. Did Sarah know? Linda thought not. There would be no way that Sarah would not be crawling all over Linda with questions and excitement and stories if she knew. But she also couldn’t see Sarah hanging out with anyone who didn’t give her their name, and Jareth was a very distinctive name. He must have used Linda’s nickname for him, which would be seen as short for “Jerry” or “Gerald.” And why hadn’t Jareth said anything? Maybe he thought Linda would spoil everything if he told her he’d met Sarah. Or perhaps thought she’d drag him out to a family dinner. In any case, Jareth had apparently met Sarah and started to give her acting lessons. 

“Jareth, you’re a rat,” Linda huffed, settling down to watch the progress of the lessons. A quick smile fluttered across her face as she remembered their familiar movements together. Perhaps she wouldn’t be the one to pick up Sarah’s pieces in the real world after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience with this chapter! I hope you enjoy!  
> ~Bea


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